Cath Staincliffe - Witness

Vinia had come round after the trial was over. ‘I worked it out,’ she said after they’d talked about Nana and everything for a bit. ‘The witness, the one I told you knew Sam and Carlton, the one that saw the car and had their voice disguised. I know who it is.’

Cheryl, who had been trying to sort the kitchen out, froze, the rubbish bag heavy in her hand. She swallowed. ‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Genevieve,’ Vinia proclaimed. ‘She was there that day, remember?’

Cheryl opened the back door, carried the bag out, her heart pittering in her chest. ‘Genevieve went to the States, didn’t she?’ Cheryl called. ‘To those cousins in Atlanta?’ Cheryl hoisted the bag into the wheelie bin, slammed the lid shut.

‘When did she go?’ Vinia was scowling, pulling out her cigarettes, as Cheryl went in.

‘Summer. Still there. Can’t have been her.’

Vinia sucked her teeth. ‘Damn!’

‘There were loads of people out that day,’ Cheryl told her, ‘could have been any one of them.’

Vinia held the packet out to Cheryl. ‘Smoke?’

Cheryl hesitated. She was trying to cut down but with Nana gone and all, it was so hard. Vinia screwed her eyes up, craned her neck back examining Cheryl. ‘What?’

‘I’m pregnant,’ Cheryl told her.

‘Oh. My. God. Whoa! What you gonna do?’

Cheryl pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shook her head.

‘Does he know?’

Cheryl shook her head again.

‘Aw, girl. I reckon you need this then.’ Vinia handed her a cigarette, pulled out her lighter. ‘I sure as hell do.’

Now Vinia was back with news about the sentences. Cheryl was up to her eyes sorting out things for Nana, notifying the post office and utility companies, cancelling some things, transferring others. She’d had a lot of help from people at church: some making meals for her or taking Milo for a couple of hours, others driving her places.

‘Life, both of them, and a minimum of twenty years.’ Vinia said. ‘I’ll be thirty-nine when he gets out. I hadn’t planned on living that long!’

‘They deserve it,’ Cheryl said.

‘Well, yeah, but-’

‘Don’t make excuses, Vinia.’

‘What’s eating you?’

Cheryl felt a glow of rage, a steady burn, something righteous and fierce. ‘Apart from my nana gone and a baby on the way and no money, you mean?’

Vinia sighed.

‘Carlton and Sam killed Danny, now they get to pay. I’m glad I won’t see either of them for the next twenty years. I don’t want to know about them or hear about them.’

Vinia’s eyes went hard. ‘What you saying?’

Cheryl cleared her throat. ‘The crew doesn’t exist anymore, all those other arrests since. No one would care if you walked away now. But if you’re going to stick by Sam, don’t come round here again.’

Vinia turned away then back, making Cheryl flinch. ‘You asking me to choose? Without me you’re on your own, Cheryl.’

Cheryl said nothing.

‘It’s not like you have to go visit anyone, innit?’ Vinia pouted.

‘I have Milo,’ said Cheryl, ‘another baby come April. I’m thinking of them. I don’t want them growing up mixing with guns and gangs and-’

‘You’re picky all of a sudden,’ Vinia said.

‘That’s how it is,’ Cheryl folded her arms. She felt dizzy.

Vinia didn’t speak. She picked up her bag and walked out.

Cheryl let her breath out. She closed her eyes for a moment, then straightened up and went to clean the sink.

Zak wondered how people stuck it: going to work in the dark, coming home in the dark. Animals hibernated. People should too. He managed up until Christmas but after that he found it harder to get out of bed in the mornings. Especially if he’d had a few the night before.

He got a warning, then a written warning. Not that he could read it. Then he got the push. The Jobcentre wouldn’t let him sign on for Jobseeker’s Allowance because he was voluntarily out of work; he would be sanctioned, they said, though he could appeal for hardship payment. He couldn’t face it.

He tried some of his old scams but it was tougher up here: either people were tighter with their cash or he was losing his touch. Wouldn’t need to bother if they’d given him the reward. Tight gits. Zak still couldn’t believe he wouldn’t get a penny, all he’d done.

Now he got letters through, some official with red lettering. He knew that wasn’t good. Then a bloke came round, a bailiff. Zak had till the end of the week to pay his rent or he’d be evicted. He had the numbers for Little and Large but all they’d do was slap his wrists and stick him in some other poxy job. Maybe not even that. They had warned him over and over like some stuck record, that if he messed up he’d be thrown off the programme. He sold the TV and DVD player to a pawn shop, made enough for the train and a bit left. He had to buy a ticket for Bess as well.

He felt better as soon as they got off the train and were walking down Piccadilly ramp into town. The place hadn’t changed. Like he’d never been away. It was raining, a fine drizzle. A tram hooted. He’d have to steer clear of Midge, if Midge wasn’t locked up, avoid Hulme way but there were other places he could try. He wondered if Russell was still caretaking at the flats.

Once he got himself sorted out he could maybe try and find his mam, see how she was doing. She might have somewhere he could stay. A nice house with a conservatory and fish in a pond and big leather sofas.

First things first and that meant something to help him sleep and then somewhere to kip. He bought a bottle of White Lightning at the mini-market and some rolling tobacco. There used to be a place down the other side of Victoria Station, under the bridge, that he’d used a couple of times, in between a dumpster and the wall. Arranged right you could open the lid of the dumpster and prop it against the wall, make a roof to keep the rain off. Yeah, he’d try there – he’d a good feeling about it.

He walked down Market Street, Bess at his side. The African guys were still selling umbrellas and the old guy who did rock ’n’ roll under a fishing tent was belting it out. Zak bought a sausage barm from the cart at the bottom of the hill. ‘’Ere, have one for the dog,’ the woman said, ‘on the house.’

‘Ta,’ he said.

‘Ey, I’m sick of this bloody rain,’ she said, handing him his change. ‘Drives you mad.’

Zak checked the sausage wasn’t too hot and gave it to Bess. Then took a bite of his own and set off along Corporation Street where the Ferris wheel was turning. The white framework and the lights blurry in the misty rain.

A woman stopped to make a fuss of Bess and a bit further on Zak could see the emo kids in little groups hanging in the rain outside Urbis. Home, thought Zak, smiling. How could he ever live anywhere else?

Jeri came for Nana’s funeral. Cheryl didn’t ask him to, he just said when is it and I’ll come up. He couldn’t come for the whole nine nights but he would come on the eve of the final ceremony and stay a few days.

She hadn’t told him about the pregnancy yet but she knew she’d have to. She’d do it after the service, when it was all over. She didn’t want it interfering with giving Nana her send-off.

He arrived into chaos: people crammed into the sitting room, others clattering in the kitchen, clearing up and serving food, Milo writhing in her arms, on a crying jag.

Cheryl’s heart jumped at the sight of him. He made his way through the crowd and kissed her, touched Milo’s cheek. The gesture brought an image of Nana, her palms stroking Milo’s face, singing his name as Cheryl swung him. Cheryl had to blink hard and rein in her tears.